


Paint Me Red

by Freakshow_Ghuleh



Category: Avatar (Swedish Band), Carach Angren (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood Kink, Bloody Mary References, Curses, Demonic Possession, M/M, Murder, Silent Hill References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 11:58:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13457793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freakshow_Ghuleh/pseuds/Freakshow_Ghuleh
Summary: A small snippet from a much larger, unfinished work spanning through multiple timelines... ;) This drabble depicts part of the aftermath in which Johannes is plagued by strange visions after awakening a dark force deep within a pitch black box...Avatar / Caracb Angren Crossover





	Paint Me Red

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the lyrics of Carach Angren's 'Blood Queen' and Avatar's 'Paint Me Red'.... 
> 
> I creeped myself out writing Seregor, but the ship is real!

[ Except: The Blood Bath ]  
Seregor / Johannes 

He leaned against the door frame, glancing cautiously at his ghoulish reflection in the bathroom mirror. The shovel was propped against the wall along with his rain sodden boots, generous splatters of mud against the white tile and a trail of earthy footprints from behind him. 

The black box sat on the edge of the sink, the old wooden relic carved in the shape of a small casket, pristine amidst the filth. Inscripted in dried blood that he had feverishly tried to wipe away was the text, “Thou shalt not open.” 

Alone in the confines of the small, tiled room with only the hum of the light above the mirror in his ears, he could have sworn he heard muted whispers coming from inside the box, calling to him in a hiss. 

He bit his lip, wincing in pain as he went to the mirror, daring to look himself in the eye again. He was deathly pale, dark circles under the glasses that perched crookedly on his long nose. His long, black hair hung around his face in dirty, dripping tangles, the fear in his pale blue eyes too much to bear again. He turned away.   
He made sure the water from the faucet was as hot as possible as he slowly undressed, his battered and bloody fingers trembling as he struggled to wrestle off his mud soaked jeans. 

The slip down the rainy hillside into a tree had done quite a number, a rainbow of blue and purple lesions blossoming cheerfully across the ivory flesh of his back, deep scratches along his hands and running up his arms. Every muscle in his body screamed at him.   
While he normally strictly abstained from animal products and chemicals, he didn't hesitate in grabbing one of his fiancée’s muscle relaxers from the medicine cabinet.

She would understand when she returned home from her mother's in Italy, which meant Johannes was alone for one more week in his personal Hell. 

The water stung at his wounds, almost too hot to tolerate, but he let himself sink back as the heat worked its way through his aching muscles, easing his frazzled nerves for just a moment. The steam danced in silky waves, and he stared at the ceiling wondering what he had done in a past life to deserve this fate.   
When would they come to the door asking about the dead man in the woods? 

The blood on the metal edge of the shovel glistened in the light, which flickered as the Swede contemplated his mortality. 

The nightmares had come every night since he had made contact through the Ouija board, growing in vividness and intensity with every restless sleep, followed by hushed voices and dark visions that haunted him through the day… 

((( Thousands of razor-sharp wings cut through the cold, dead air - black, feathered bodies blotting out the sun as their hungry shadow creeps over the dying soil, bringing destruction and decay in its wake. Death rides on their current, His maroon coat and chestnut waves billowing around his statuesque form. His eyes are burning like molten amber, burning through the young mortal as he watches helplessly from the ground below. A broad hand is stretched out to him, grey and gnarled and ending in curving black talons, offering salvation as the world withers to dust. )))

Tick - tack! A sharp tapping on the window broke him from his daze. He saw a flutter of glossy black feathers followed by the low rumble of thunder in the distance, and the light above the mirror began to flicker. The coffin shaped box still sat on the mud-splattered porcelain, its presence now more noticeable than ever.

“Can I just get one fucking minute of peace… J-just one?“ Johannes murmured aloud to no one in particular amidst the steam. He sighed softly, feeling some semblance of relief from pain as exhaustion and prescription drugs began wearing at his consciousness. 

He moved to get out before a deep and dreamless Xanax-induced sleep could claim him when the bathroom door slammed shut without warning.   
Something cold slithered past his leg beneath the water and he cried out in surprise, lurching upright to exit the tub and out of the house stark naked if given the chance. He was held in place as that same something snared around his ankles, constricting painfully. He could only watch numbly as the water began to cloud and burble, the shade darkening into a deep, opaque crimson. 

The wash room quickly resembled a murder scene as he struggled to flee, splashes of gore spraying the walls and creating a macabre Pollock in the rapidly flickering fluorescence. There wasn't any neighbor close enough to hear him scream in the Finnish wilderness, nor would anyone find him until his fiancee returned home to a nightmare… 

He saw dark tendrils creeping from the murky red filth, long black roots curling around the edge of the tub and climbing up the blood spattered wall. His heart was pounding in his ears as he grabbed for whatever held him, but his hands felt something else beneath the surface. 

A hand shot from the tainted water, long, skeletal fingers wrapping around Johannes’ slender forearm. He howled in surprise and fell back, cracking his head against the tile behind him. Another claw slid up his leg, and Johannes could only whimper in pained disbelief as something else slithered slowly along his thigh. 

“What the FUCK--- NO!”

Where he had been alone only moments before, he was now staring deep into the glowing amber eyes from his nightmare as the creature’s head rose above the surface. Drenched in crimson with thick waves of hair plastered to his face, those full lips stretched wide into wide in a madman’s grin full of sharp, jagged teeth, the demon’s laughter was a deep growl. 

Johannes almost fainted, his heart exploding in his ears and his breathing coming in tiny gasps. He found his voice after a moment and screamed, trying to will himself awake, but the creature only came closer until its dense weight was pressing down against the man’s narrow chest. A black tongue slid between the creature's smiling lips, forked and serpentine and Johannes whimpered as he realized what had touched him beneath the water. The clawed grip on his arm tightened. 

“Who-- Oh, shit, SHIT - please, please no… Please d-don't hurt me...” Johannes had a deep, resonating voice naturally, perfectly suited for his career choice. Right now, he could barely stammer out his plea, mewling like a helpless kitten about to be devoured by a wolf. The twitching black tongue slid along his pale cheek, catching fresh tears that began to fall. 

The blood-soaked demon tilted His head to the side curiously, never once blinking, still regarding him with that hideous grin. Johannes couldn't stand to look at the thing, its gaze of pale fire ever burning in the failing light, but somehow he didn't want to look away. He cringed as skeletal talons cupped his chin, waiting for the inevitable snap... 

“Why…” The creature asked, though its lips never spoke the words. Johannes winced, hearing the rasping voice slither through his mind, invading his thoughts and leaving him cold. “After all you've put me through, locking me away and burying our legacy, forgetting my name for so many lifetimes… Why would I find you again after all this time…. Just to snuff you out?” 

Beneath the cloak of coagulating death, the ethereal beauty of the demon's facade began to shimmer, shifting to something horrible. The mouth stretched wider, revealing two more rows of jagged, rending teeth behind the hungry smile. Johannes opened his mouth to scream when his head was shoved beneath the bloody water. 

He kicked out his legs to fight, his arms bound in the crushing grip of his nightmare, but he froze as his legs felt nothing, the sense of weightlessness. He opened his eyes, seeing the burning, accusatory glow of the entity’s in a clouded see of red. 

There was nothing around them besides a flickering light growing dimmer and dimmer above as they drifted further into the void.   
“Look at what you've damned me to. Let me out. Open the box and we will finish what we started, mijn geliefde… mijn kleine hoer.”

Johannes was drowning, blood filling his lungs. The creature pulled him close, resting his forehead against his to watch his final moments, but not before Johannes began to remember… 

Johannes lurched upright, coughing and sputtering as he hurled himself out of the tub, nearly taking the shower curtain with him. He wrapped a towel around himself as he peered fearfully at the soap-murky water, then back to the splatters of mud along the washroom walls. The black box was gone. 

He screamed again as the sound of soft scratching sounded from the closed door, followed by the eager snuffling of a small canine nose. He looked towards the window, seeing the first of light of dawn beginning to lift away the shroud of night. 

He could have sworn he'd only been gone a few hours! Johannes felt the panic rising as the scratching persisted. The dark, grey gloom outside threatened rain. 

“Fuck... Just a minute, Hasselhoff.” 

He roughly toweled off his hair and grabbed a pair of pajamas and an old Batman t-shirt from the basket, closing the door behind him again as he'd address the disaster later. 

As he sauntered down into the kitchen with the chihuahua nestled in his arms, he very quickly saw that his tiny companion’s food and water dish were already filled. 

The black box was waiting on the kitchen counter this time, waiting for him as he held his tawny little dog closer. Dried bloody hand prints marred its black carved surface. 

“I think we'd better call John…“ 

\- - -

“John… Yeah, er… Is this a bad time?”

“What better things would I be doing than waiting for a ring from my favorite prima donna clown prince? Do they still float down there, Mr. J?“  
“Ha - ha. Hey-- fuck you. Er... Look, I really need your help, man... “

[ to be continued.... ]


End file.
